


Spun Away All Her Sorrow and Pain

by rc6188



Series: Never Wanted to Leave [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Post-Battle, arya takes a bath and gendry is mesmerized, gendry POV, happy ending!, post 8x03
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-04
Updated: 2019-05-04
Packaged: 2020-02-18 16:20:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18703144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rc6188/pseuds/rc6188
Summary: It was at precisely that moment, his fingers gently carding through the dirty tangled strands of her hair, that he realized he cared deeply for her—loved her.





	Spun Away All Her Sorrow and Pain

It was at precisely that moment, his fingers gently carding through the dirty tangled strands of her hair, that he realized he cared deeply for her—loved her. The realization stole the wind from his chest. Gendry had never loved anyone before. He did not know a mother’s love, only golden hair and a soft voice. He did not know of sibling love, for he had none. It was a foreign sensation; his stomach twisted and his heart ached, but he felt filled to the brim with emotion—and even in the dead of winter, it made him feel impossibly warm. 

His fingers stilled in their movements, stopping to rest at the curve of where her shoulder meets her neck, careful as to not brush them against the purpling bruises that marred the pale column of her throat. She made a tiny whimpering noise at the loss and he let out a breathless chuckle, his heart clenching unfamiliarly. _Is this what if feels like to love?_ She sat in the tub with her knees drawn to her chest; her grey eyes were closed and the wet spikes of her eyelashes cast faint shadows on her porcelain skin. 

Gendry does his best to concentrate on her delicate features, on the elegant taper of her nose, the curve of her rosy lips, and not on the countless new cuts and bruises that littered her skin. When she had taken off her tunic, her back to him as she got ready to step into the water, Gendry had let out a small gasp. He hadn’t meant to, and he regretted the noise immediately after it escaped his throat. She had turned her head towards him and he could see the plea in her stormy eyes, _not tonight, please_. He had obeyed, of course; he was learning that he would do anything for Arya Stark, anything at all.

He dipped the washing cloth back into the murky water. The linen of his sleeves had already soaked through and his knees were beginning to sore from their crouched position, but Gendry couldn't find it in himself to care. The water had gone tepid, he noted absentmindedly, but it seemed like Arya did not mind it. Her eyes were still closed, the fine lines that sometimes worked their way between her brows smoothed. 

Gendry ran the cloth between her shoulder blades, gently rubbing off the dirt and soot that had settled there. _She’s beautiful_ , he thought, as he watched drops of water fall from the tips of her hair, rowing paths down her skin before disappearing back into the murkiness. One droplet clung to the nape of her neck and for a moment, he stilled. Gendry wanted to kiss the droplet off of her, wanted to taste it with his tongue just like she had let him the previous night. He almost chastised himself then, he shouldn’t be thinking of such thoughts when he wasn’t even sure if Arya wanted him to kiss her again, nevertheless her body. 

“I can hear you thinking,” Arya said, her lips quirking upwards slightly. 

“Doesn’t happen often. You should enjoy it while it lasts.” 

Her grin broadened at that and Gendry’s heart did the strange thing again and his breath almost caught in his throat. 

Arya turned to look at him, her grey eyes finally revealing themselves, and this time, Gendry’s breath does hitch. They’re pools of emotions he can’t read, but she looked so open—so vulnerable. He had never seen Arya like this since his return, not even when she lay on top of him. The sinking, dizzying feeling had crawled its way back and hit him full force. Never had Gendry felt the stronger need to hold someone in his arms, to whisper how much she meant to him, to never let her go. _Seven hells, he loved her. He loved Arya Stark so bloody much it hurt._

A lump suddenly appeared in his throat and he let out a small cough in hopes of ridding it, but the stinging in his eyes had already started. Gendry cast his eyes downward just as the first drop fell from his cheek. 

“Arya, I—” he started, hardly recognizing his own voice. 

She drew one of her hands from the water and placed it on his larger one that was gripping the edge of the tub. When she stroked the pad of her thumb across his hand—a silent gesture of reassurance—Gendry looked up slowly, finally meeting her eyes. Despite his best, the words tripped on his tongue. He hated himself for it, for not being able to express how much he loved her then. Instead, he begged with his eyes for her to understand—and he thought, as she cupped his cheek with a trembling hand, her own eyes turning glassy, that she does. 

Arya kissed him then, just a faint press of lips. It was chaste, unlike any of the kisses they shared last night, yet Gendry thought this one was his favorite. He was too focused on the gentle pressure, the fact that he could feel her lips quivering between his own, and the salt that he now tasted to really contemplate what the meaning behind her kiss was. 

But then Arya was clutching him tighter, pulling him closer, murmuring _me too, me too_ between kisses and Gendry thought, a smile forming beneath her lips, that he will not need to contemplate its meaning.

**Author's Note:**

> Game of Thrones has officially forced me to write my first ever fic! 
> 
> I feel like I've been building up so many emotions with the last three episodes (the flirting! the storeroom sex! the looks!) and it finally culminated into this clumsy piece at 11:30am. Hope you guys enjoy & thanks so much for reading :)


End file.
